


After the Party

by snarkyscorp



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Clumsy Sex, Dirty Talk, F/M, Facials, Loss of Virginity, Multiple Orgasms, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 22:03:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkyscorp/pseuds/snarkyscorp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry needed more than a splash of water, he realized, as the cool breeze slithered down under his shirt; he needed a bloody miracle to get through the night without dropping trou and shouting, "I don't care if I've never done it before—I'm going to fuck Ginny Weasley right here on the table, and there is nothing any of you can do about it!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Party

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [**hp_kinkfest**](http://hp-kinkfest.livejournal.com/). Thanks a terrible amount to [](http://ellie-kat89.livejournal.com/profile)[**ellie_kat89**](http://ellie-kat89.livejournal.com/) for the plotting assistance. And to my beautiful beta, [](http://literaryspell.livejournal.com/profile)[**literaryspell**](http://literaryspell.livejournal.com/).

The party was in full swing, and everyone was having a wonderful time—everyone, that was, except one of the guests of honour and host of the evening's shindig, Harry Potter.

With a bit of sweat beading at the back of his neck, Harry excused himself from his own party. Without garnishing notice, he slipped into the bedroom at the back of his flat, which was thankfully off-limits (even though he had spotted George and Angelina eyeing the unlocked door hopefully several times during the evening). The room was warm and didn't help Harry clear his head at all, mostly because the things that needed clearing involved a bed just like the one he slept in and wanked in every night. In fact, the mess of unmade sheets reminded Harry just what he had been up to the previous evening, and he groaned as he marched across the room and to the window.

Cracking the window just enough to let the cool night breeze in, Harry fanned himself with one hand and even leaned at an awkward angle to yank his collar down, allowing the air to slide under his t-shirt and against his bare skin. A splash of water to his face would have done him well, but he already knew George had slipped a Puking Pastille into Percy's punch, so the loo would be occupied for the rest of the evening if Harry remembered the longevity of the effects correctly. And while he felt for Percy—no matter how often Percy's sentences that evening had begun with, "Yes, well, when _I_ got married" and annoyed the pants off everyone—Harry really _needed_ the strict privacy only a loo could offer.

Harry needed more than a splash of water, he realized, as the cool breeze slithered down under his shirt; he needed a bloody miracle to get through the night without dropping trou and shouting, "I don't care if I've never done it before—I'm going to fuck Ginny Weasley right here on the table, and there is nothing any of you can do about it!"

Groaning, Harry gripped the window sill until his knuckles were white. The arousal coiling uncontrollably through his dick was making it hard to think straight. All he could see when he closed his eyes was Ginny's perfectly plump lips, pink and glossy as she pressed an olive into the 'o' of her mouth. Or the sway of her hips when she sauntered to the kitchen to retrieve a Fizzy Fruit to sip on. Or the swell of her breasts just shy of indecent, bulging against the death-defying plunge of the neckline on her sultry green dress. Or the round of her arse when she bent to retrieve Harry's wand, which he certainly had not dropped on purpose to make her do it. Or the whites of her teeth when she caught him staring and grinned like a wolf on the prowl, or the grip of her nails in his arm when he cornered her against the hallway wall and told her tonight would be _The Night_ , or the eager, just-for-Harry whisper in his ear when she said, "I can't wait, stud."

Lifting his glasses free, Harry collapsed on the bed and scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. The party was supposed to be an innocent and fun evening, spent with the Weasleys, Luna, Neville, and all his friends. He was supposed to make a goddamn toast about how he and Ginny had set a date and planned to buy a house near the Burrow. It was supposed to be easy to laugh and smile and thank fuck the war had been over for four years and everyone was finally in good spirits and the world seemed to be doing just fine… but all Harry could think about was getting his dick wet with Ginny's come, about watching her mouth descend over his length, sliding his fingers into her for the first time, biting at her neck in just the way that sent her keening, and going all the way with a capital W.

It seemed every little gesture Ginny made was meant to tease him, every word meant to set him on fire, and Harry just wished everyone would get the hint and bugger off so they could be alone. It had taken him too bloody long to get through his emotional hang-ups on intimacy, his mental instabilities after the war, and gather his courage to let Ginny see the personal parts of him that no one else had. After four years of patience and understanding, Harry was tired of waiting. Tonight, he would sweep Ginny off her feet and give her everything she had ever dreamed. Sod waiting until marriage—neither of them had ever planned to go that long without sex, and Harry would be damned if he let a little thing like fear stand in his way.

He had defeated _Voldemort_ , for Merlin's sake. He was Harry sodding Potter, the Boy Who Lived (twice), the Hero and Saviour and everything else that went with it.

It only took a bit more pensive pondering along this line of thought before Harry forced himself to take a deep breath and drive all images of Ginny's spread thighs and wet mouth from his conscious mind. He replaced them with well-worn cock-deflating thoughts of McGonagall flossing, Hagrid with his shirt off, Ron dancing, and Percy in high-heels. All of those combined made for a great reason to grin stupidly, and Harry did just that as he made his way out of the bedroom and back into the mass of friends crowding his flat.

"All right, Harry?" Luna asked as she stared reverently into her pumpkin juice.

"Fine. Just needed a moment to myself."

"I understand. Though personally I thought you might have come down with a case of Windlebeets."

"Um… Windlebeets?" Harry asked distractedly, meeting Ginny's gaze across the room.

Ginny was laughing with Angelina and Hermione, but her eyes were locked on Harry. It was like the rest of the room melted away and the only thing left was the two of them, standing at opposite ends but somehow touching through the distance. Harry wanted to grip Ginny's waist, to haul her close and kiss her like their lives depended on it. He wanted to forget about taking things slow and ravage her like an animal.

"It's an undocumented infection caused by Windle Beetles crawling under your skin," Luna went on quietly.

"Yeah, of course it's—" Harry looked back at Luna sharply with wide, disturbed eyes. "I don't… think I, uh, have any of those."

When Luna raised her eyes to him, she was smiling airily. "Oh, of course you do, Harry—I saw them in your bathroom."

"Er, right…"

But as Luna explained the difference between Japanese Windle Beetles and English ones, Harry was thankful for her intrusion on his eye-sex with Ginny—there was nothing like talking about bugs crawling under his skin and in his bathroom to quell the primal urges pulsing through his veins.

~*~

The party was scheduled to go until ten-thirty, but as it was a Saturday evening, nobody was intent on leaving. George and Angelina wished Harry and Ginny all the happiness in the world in what could only be described as George's most serious and sincere toast, Ron warned Harry not to hurt his little sister or there'd be hell to pay, Hermione recalled all the most embarrassing moments when she knew Harry had fallen in love, Neville hugged the both of them tight, Percy told them he knew where they could get a good deal on their marriage license from the 'most reputable source' and that his connections could grease the wheel for them, and Charlie said he'd give them a baby Hungarian Horntail as a wedding gift, since he knew Harry would have no trouble with it.

It was well past eleven when Luna excused herself to check her homemade Nargle traps. Neville and Percy were quick to leave after, followed by Charlie, George, and Angelina, until only Hermione and Ron stood in the way of Harry and Ginny's privacy. At just after midnight, Hermione began giving Ron pointed hints that they were overstaying their welcome, but it wasn't until twenty past one in the morning that Ron was too pissed to speak and Hermione was able to drag him away.

"Thanks for having us over," Hermione said, hoisting Ron's arm over her shoulder.

"Tell them—tell them that, um—tell them that I love them, Her-mee-nie," Ron babbled. His drunken gaze fell on Harry and he stumbled forward, wrapping his arms about Harry's neck and nuzzling into his chest. "You're so strong, 'arry. Ginny is soooo lucky, and I think… I think…" For a moment, Ron said nothing. Then he looked up at Harry with a loopy grin. "Hey, Harry. What are you doing here?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh as he gingerly patted Ron on the back and transferred his aimless weight into Hermione's able hands. "Thanks, mate," he said.

"Congratulations again!" Hermione added, kissing Ginny's cheek before she dragged Ron the rest of the way out the door. "Good night. We'll see the both of you next week at the Ministry fundraiser."

"See you," Ginny called.

"Good night," Harry added, putting on his best and most patient smile until the door shut behind them and he could remove his wand to put the locks and wards back up.

Just as he finished, he felt a warm body press up flush against his back. Ginny's voice whispered in his ear, "Locking me in, I see. Don't even get a choice in the matter, I suppose."

Harry knew she was joking, but his instincts forced out his apology. "No—I mean, I wasn't… You don't have to—"

"I like a man who knows how to _take charge_." To punctuate the last two words of that statement, Ginny's hands squeezed Harry's chest and abdomen. Her teeth raked over his ear-lobe, sending his libido into overdrive. "Aren't you dying to take charge, Harry?"

Harry hissed as her lips closed around the sensitive cartilage of his ear. He barely managed to answer her with a husky, "Taking charge is my middle name."

Ginny laughed and pulled away, but her fingertips lingered on Harry's body as he turned to face her. "Well, Harry 'take charge' Potter… what would a man in your position be up to locking an innocent girl like me up without a choice?" Ginny pressed forward and Harry fell back into the door, Ginny's soft weight pressing along the length of his front. She leaned in to nibble and peck at his jawline.

" _Innocent_?" Harry gasped. He had meant it to sound like a tease, but it came out more like a reprimand, and he felt Ginny stiffen in his loose grip.

Pulling her lips away, Ginny fixed her dark eyes on him with a quirk of a fine, red brow. "If you weren't so adorable when you get nervous, I'd smack you for that."

"You've smacked me for less," Harry reminded her, grinning.

When Ginny grinned back, Harry felt that all-too familiar desire to grab, touch, and take. But Ginny had always made the first move, and now Harry was having trouble doing it for himself despite the ache that said he wanted to.

"So..." Ginny pulled away completely, trailing her fingertips along Harry's jaw before she turned entirely from him and sauntered over to the living area. "I take it that's an invitation for me to stay the night?" she asked, lifting both eyebrows now as she knelt to begin the cleanup of the party crackers, crisps, and spilled champagne. Her long red hair slithered enticingly over her pale, lightly-freckled shoulder—there wasn't a single thing in the room more interesting.

"If you'd like it to be," Harry said, lifting his wand to sweep his half of the room up before moving into the kitchen. His eyes never left Ginny's, even as he stumbled back over the single step up into the kitchen. "Do you? Want to spend the night with me, I mean?"

For a moment, Ginny looked caught between teasing him and answering seriously. Her dark eyes searched his face for such a long time that Harry was afraid he had indeed managed to catch a severe case of Windlebeets that she could see crawling under his skin.

Finally, she stood up and brushed her hair back over her shoulders. "I would love to, Harry. You know I would. But—"

"I hate buts."

Ginny snorted. "You never said you had a problem with mine."

"Point taken."

" _But_ ," Ginny went on. "I don't want to rush you. No, Harry, listen to me; this is serious. I know we don't really… talk about these things, and that's fine, and I don't mind waiting—really, I don't." Drawing closer, Ginny stepped up into the kitchen with him, wrapping both arms loosely around his neck. "So if all you want is for me to crawl in bed and sleep beside you, nothing has to happen." She smiled, kissed his lips gingerly, and then looked back up into his eyes again. "All right?"

Libido calmed, Harry sighed. He combed his fingers through her hair, knowing it relaxed her, and whispered, "I want to. Merlin knows I want to, Ginny."

"…But?"

"But." Harry frowned, feeling the fear shake through the core to his very bones. What if he wasn't good enough? What if he hurt her? What if he started to sob or vomit or passed out or put it in wrong or poked her or couldn't give her what she needed? He sighed, knowing the answer before it left his lips. "I'm not ready."

Ginny smiled, bless her, and kissed his mouth tenderly. Her full lips lingered against his for what seemed an eternity, warm and soft and wonderfully sincere.

"It's all right," she said, and he knew she meant it. "Can I still stay the night, though?"

"I'd love that."

"Fantastic." She sighed, glancing at all the empty glasses and general mess of the living area and kitchen. "Why don't we leave cleanup to the morning? It suddenly looks devastatingly filthy in here."

"Above what I'm capable of at this hour," Harry added.

"All right, handsome. Let's get into bed then."

~*~

In the bedroom, Harry tried to clean off the floor as best he could manage in the two minutes it took Ginny to enter behind him after she'd changed into one of his t-shirts. He kicked dirty clothes into the Dirty Clothes Pile and clean clothes towards the chest of drawers in the corner to be shoved and stuffed in later. Offering Ginny a cheeky grin, he didn't manage to quite hide the _Playwizard_ s before she had grabbed one.

Ginny held it up by one page, and Harry felt heat swell inside as the rest of the pages fluttered and the centerfold dropped out fold by fold. A buxom witch in a skimpy negligee coyly bent to kiss her mistress's knee, then up the thigh, all the way to the heat between her legs. Her mistress mouthed naughty things, like, _what a good little girl_ and _my husband would love to see this_ as the words highlighted themselves at the corner of the page.

"It's not what you think," Harry said, tugging his t-shirt off over his head.

"So it's educational material, I suppose?" Ginny asked. At the silence that ensued, Ginny's grin faltered. "Oh, I didn't mean—"

"I know." Frowning, Harry grabbed the magazine from her and folded it back up, a little embarrassed that yes, it just might have been the only real 'educational material' he had. It wasn't like there was a book out there called _How to Have Sex With a Woman When Your Name is Harry Potter and Everyone Expects You to Be Perfect at Everything_ that Hermione could track down for him. "It's okay," he added at Ginny's guilty look. He turned from her to wriggle out of his denims.

"It's funny actually," Ginny said after a long silence in which Harry spent sliding into the queen-size bed and tugging the heavy blankets up over his abdomen. "How little those magazines know about actual sex and what really turns girls on."

Harry grinned. "You mean you don't like crawling on your hands and knees for your mistress? Care to enlighten a bloke?"

"Gladly."

Crawling onto the bed, Ginny straddled Harry's lap easily, and he had to fight the sudden and overwhelming urge to tell her how beautiful she looked wearing nothing more than a t-shirt and knickers. He could see the outline of her nipples just poking against the thin material, and instantly, Harry felt hot all over. Ginny tipped his head up, forcing their eyes to meet.

"First thing you ought to know: breasts are fantastic."

Harry laughed a little awkwardly. "I wouldn't argue that."

"I didn't think you would. But those magazines of yours have us girls bouncing them around, jiggling them, pushing them together, or rubbing them on each other, and the reality is, manhandling isn't going to do anything for us." Ginny reached out and took Harry's hand, kissing his fingertips when she saw the worried, anxious look on his face. "If you want to squeeze, that's fine for foreplay, but the nipple is the way to every woman's deepest pleasures."

Harry's mouth had gone completely dry by the time Ginny pressed his hand to her right breast and allowed him to cup it. She manoeuvred his thumb to brush over her nipple.

"All right, Harry?" she asked, and all Harry could do was nod. "Second, not _all_ witches are lesbians or even bisexual, much as it gets you off thinking we are. So if you've fantasized about Luna and I rutting like dogs in heat, I'd stock that in your fantasy-only bin. Now Hermione, I'd consider."

Clearing his throat, Harry managed to croak, " _Hermione_? Really?" Ginny pinched his arm—hard—until he twisted in pain but laughed nonetheless. "Ow! Sorry, joking."

"Yeah, I'll bet." Ginny rolled her eyes playfully and settled further down on Harry's lap, until her pert arse rested atop his pelvis and her thighs met his. "And third, your little magazines think women just want to be in the submissive position. Some of us like being on top." From her position, she chuckled warmly and threaded her fingers through Harry's hair. "Like me."

Half-afraid to ask her what _exactly_ she meant by 'on top', Harry just nodded numbly and opened his mouth to hers when she leaned down for another kiss. He could feel his dick hardening at the urgency of her lips and tongue and teeth, and when his fingers gripped her waist, he swore he was about to leave bruises. After it seemed hours had passed where they moaned and mouthed and tongued at one another, Ginny pulled away with a nip to his bottom lip and giggled.

"Your glasses are all foggy," she hummed, pressing them up the bridge of Harry's nose.

"Wonder why," Harry countered, licking the taste of her from his mouth. "You feel so good, Ginny." He leaned up to kiss at her throat and over the length of her strong jaw as both hands swam over her tight-muscled body, taut from her recent gig with the Harpies.

Ginny moaned and then suddenly glanced down between them and up at Harry with a frown. "I, uh, can tell a bit," she mumbled awkwardly as she slipped out of his grip and off the bed with a bit of a stumble to her usually graceful gait. "Sorry. Am really thirsty. I'll be right back, promise."

"But, Ginny—"

It was no use. Ginny was out the door and down the small hallway before Harry could stop her. Looking down at his rock-hard length bulging obviously and embarrassingly along the front of his pants, he could see why she'd run.

"Bloody idiot," he cursed at himself, trying to will his erection away with all his might.

He thought of Ron dancing, which in itself should have made him laugh, but then he thought about Hermione dancing with him and that led to Hermione dancing with Ginny and oh, fuck, he was screwed.

McGonagall flossing did the trick enough that after a few minutes without Ginny's warm body strong and lean atop his own, Harry calmed down sufficiently enough to stand up and walk to the kitchen as well. He expected to find Ginny guzzling water or just ignoring him near the cabinets, but even in his wildest wet dreams, Harry never would have imagined the reality of the situation.

Walking in, Harry came upon Ginny with one leg up, foot braced on the silverware drawer with her toes curled in the handle. Her fingers were buried between her thighs, and Harry could—Merlin, he could _see_ her wetness, glistening and thick as her fingers disappeared into her sex.

Mouth completely dry, Harry stood stock still for a long time just watching. Ginny was rocking forward, the silverware drawer was squeaking, and her head was thrown back in utter ecstasy. Stomach taut, muscles contracting, Harry watched as her fingers slid into her body again and again and again until finally he couldn't help the wince of undeniable arousal flooding his body.

The quiet noise alerted Ginny to his presence, and her brown eyes went wide and black—pupils absolutely blown beyond anything Harry had seen in his life.

"Oh, Harry," she whispered, shifting to drop her leg as a red flush blotched her pale, freckled face. "Please, I didn't mean—"

Ginny had barely got the word _please_ out before Harry was on her. His full, muscled body shoved her against the counter, and he grabbed under her thighs to hoist her up as utensils and dirty plates went flying and crashing about the floor. His mouth crashed with hers, and twin moans filled the electric air between them. Sloppily, Harry kissed as if it was the first time, biting her lips prematurely and swallowing her taste. He remembered their first kiss and every kiss after, but this was different—this was primal and biting and frantic. Harry wanted to claim Ginny, to mark her and fill her and keep her tied down until he was done.

Ginny's hands tangled in his hair when Harry slid a hand over the round of her upper leg and swiped his thumb between the crease of her groin and thigh. It was like something clicked in Harry's brain, some strange ON switch that had been stifled in the OFF position for too long. Readiness be damned—he was not stopping now. He felt like a steam train barrelling down a hill without brakes.

When Harry brushed his thumb lower, across the slick fold of her slit, he was rewarded with both the overwhelming sensation of her thick wetness coating his thumb and Ginny's fraught grunt of pleasure. So he did it again, and again, and again, teasing his calloused thumb across the slick skin at her opening. She was so unbelievably wet, and Harry had never felt anything like it. He had the undeniable urge to slide his thumb right in, so he pressed it forward and tried.

Ginny yelped quietly. "Easy," she panted, gripping his wrist.

For a second, Harry felt overcome with fear. He was going to hurt her. She wouldn't like it. He wouldn't be good enough. But at the look on his face, Ginny kissed his mouth and tilted his hand down. At the new angle, she pressed forward and impaled herself on his thumb instantly, straight down to the knuckle.

Harry shuddered, feeling a sticky stain already forming on his pants.

"Better," she encouraged, rocking her hips as she sat back and braced herself on the countertop. "Move your thumb, nice and slow, in and out."

Harry looked down between their bodies and leaned back so he could watch his thumb. He pulled it free slowly, then pressed it back in, and repeated until Ginny was keening and thrusting and urging him on.

"Here," she said, drawing his thumb out of her and pressing it against the small, hard nub just above the lips of her cunt. "Oh god, Harry, _right there_! Harder—rub it harder, please—oh, just like that, yessss…"

As Ginny threw her head back and rocked her hips hard into his thumb, Harry growled and pressed as hard and rough as she wanted. He rubbed her and then pinched the little nub between his thumb and forefinger, which elicited a gasp as one of Ginny's hands found his head and guided it sharply down to her right breast. Somewhere along the line, the t-shirt she was wearing got hiked up and shoved under her armpits, exposing her chest and the long line of her undulating body. Harry had no time to think about how beautiful she looked before his lips and tongue and teeth and free hand were all assaulting her breast and nipple, bruising it until it throbbed hotly under his mouth.

All thought of her earlier pointers flew from his mind. While they had done some heavy petting, Harry had never gone this far, had never cupped her breast or bit her nipple or licked down the taut round of her chest. Overwhelmed, he gripped and squeezed, pushed and pulled, all while his thumb continued to do whatever the hell she asked it to. Finally, he shoved it back inside her in one sharp twist, and Ginny spasmed in his arms.

"Oh—God!" she cried. "Again—please do it again, Harry, and touch me and—nnng, just like that, Harry, Merlin…"

At her urging, Harry shoved in sharply from that angle, hitting something inside her wet, warm body that made her jolt with every thrust. And since he couldn't figure out how to touch her breast _and_ pleasure her clit with the same hand, he took a chance and ducked his head. One long swipe of the flat of his tongue from the opening of her juicy lips to the hard round of her clit was all it took—Ginny screamed, thrashed, and grabbed his head with both hands to shove his face against her.

Nose, mouth, chin, and jaw were all properly soaked and sticky by the time Ginny relaxed and pressed an insistent hand to Harry's wrist to stop his progress. "Stop, for just a second," she whispered, fingers combing idly through his hair.

Looking up at her through the fog of his glasses, Harry licked the taste of her off his lips. She tasted like… well, it wasn't exactly pleasant, but it sort of had an aftertaste like the champagne they'd consumed earlier together. Before he could wipe the rest of it from his face, Ginny growled and pulled him close by the waistline of his pants and began licking him clean.

Harry groaned and gripped all of Ginny that he could manage, his dick sticky and pulsing with every rock of his hips against her slick sex. He could feel her juices soaking through his pants as he rubbed against her, and if his fingers felt that good in her, he wondered what it would be like once he got his cock in and buried it to the hilt.

With a shove to his chest, Ginny sent Harry sprawling. He fell back against the opposite counter, bumping his head against the upper cabinets and jostling the cheap dishes that were stored inside them. Before he could ask what he'd done wrong, Ginny hopped off her countertop and fell to her knees before him with an absolutely predatory grin.

"You never told me how absolutely _amazing_ you'd be at pleasuring girls, Harry Potter," she purred, and to Harry's utter shock and enjoyment, her mouth closed over the outline of the head of his dick. She sucked against it, lapping her taste and his off his pants until he was shuddering and his knees felt like they'd give out at any moment. "Mind if I return the favour?"

Harry's face flooded with heat from embarrassment and excitement. "You, um, don't have to do—"

"And then we can get to the _real good_ stuff where you bend me over the sink and have your way with me."

"Jesus Christ," Harry growled, staring down at her in dumbfounded arousal as she pulled his dick free, the waistband of his pants snug under the hang of his tight balls. Her fingers closed over the base of his length, and Harry had to bite back the grunt of pleasure he wanted to shout to the heavens.

"You can make noises," Ginny encouraged. "I like that. A lot."

"O-Okay."

Harry didn't know why she was asking him to humiliate himself like that, but the moment her mouth closed over the head of his dick and she began to suck warmly, he lost all control over his ability to care whether or not he made a fool of himself. A low grunt spilled from his lips and lungs, and he growled in feral pleasure when she ran her tongue along the underside of the sensitive, wet tip. His head fell back roughly, forgetting that there was a cabinet behind him—his head knocked into it roughly, but the pain numbed instantly when he looked down in time to see Ginny's lips stretched taut over his length, taking him down the entire way, until her petite nose buried in the dark thatch of curls at the base.

It didn't take but a moment before Harry's fingers fisted in her silk-soft red hair, tangling and pulling and guiding. Before he knew what hit him, he thrust down her throat, pulled out and watched the white-hot spurts of come splash across her mouth, tongue, and chin. Ginny's fingers pinched the base of his dick, and Harry wouldn't ask how she knew that it kept his arousal straining even minutes after his heavy orgasm.

"Sorry—your face," Harry murmured, fumbling to reach for a towel to wipe her clean.

Ginny stood up quickly and pinned his hands behind his back before Harry even had a chance. "Lick me," she demanded, eyes gleaming.

"W- _What_?"

Grinning and trembling to hold Harry still, Ginny thrust her face close to Harry's mouth. "Lick me clean."

For some reason, Harry didn't hesitate the second time she demanded it. He'd never thought of tasting his own come, least of all off someone else's face, but the eroticism of having his hands held firm behind him and Ginny's heated breath in his face aroused him beyond his capability to complain. Tentatively, he leaned forward and lapped his own release off her skin. It was bitter and salty and he felt a little bad for making Ginny swallow it, but she hadn't seemed to mind that a minute ago. Just as he'd licked off the last stripe, he was surprised to find Ginny's mouth on his own, her tongue probing the warmest depths. She groaned and bit his tongue, so he groaned and broke free of her hold and then she was clawing at his pants and he was shoving her— _shoving_ her like a man void of his sanity—against the counter and bending her over it at an awkward angle to get what he wanted.

"In me," she gasped. "In me, Harry, _now_."

Harry wasn't one to argue, and as he gripped the base of his dick, he felt the anxiety of the moment seep out of his bones. Relaxed, running on pure instinct, Harry slid his dick into Ginny's body. And while he went as slow as he dared in this state of mind, Ginny still seemed to be in pain for a moment while he settled his balls against her arse.

"Oh," she breathed. "Oh, Harry, wait… just a minute, please…"

Harry leaned down to kiss her bared throat and hiked her leg up, holding at her thigh as sweat began to bead down his back, slithering between his arse cheeks.

"Better," she whispered, smiling. "You're, um, big."

For some reason, that statement floored Harry. He had never felt he was anything but ordinary, especially in the size of his penis compared to everyone else in the world. But to hear Ginny say it, to know _she_ thought it was big excited him in a way he wouldn't have been able to describe.

"Lift your legs," Harry growled, taking control of the situation, because he remembered hitting that spot in Ginny that made her thrash with just his thumb, and he had a good feeling it would be that much better with his dick sliding over it.

As Ginny lifted her legs, Harry thrust forward, and his dick slipped in the final inch. Ginny cried out and grabbed Harry for support as he braced her against the counter and on his dick. But she slipped when he tried to move again, and he wasn't exactly the strongest man in the world holding a professional Quidditch player in his arms. So when his dick slid out and Ginny gasped, she pressed a hand to his cheek and patted it warmly.

"Do you want me? Right here in the kitchen?" she asked, eyes wild as her toes touched ground and she stood in Harry's embrace.

"Yes," Harry exhaled desperately, his hands crawling with urgency over her sweaty curves. "Merlin yes, please, Ginny, I don't want to wait anymore."

"Okay. Good. Me, too. I just needed to hear that before I did this." Ginny gently pushed passed Harry and moved to the small pull-out kitchen table. She lowered it from the wall and bent over it without preamble, spreading her legs and wiggling her arse at him enticingly.

There were no words to describe how much he wanted her, so Harry didn't bother with them. There was no warning as Harry closed the distance between them in two large strides, gripped the base of his wet dick, and shoved it to the hilt in her. Ginny screamed, and Harry did hesitate at that, but when she waved her hand in the air and let out a moan, he got the hint and did it again. And again.

The weak table skidded across the hard floor as Ginny gripped it and sobbed. Harry let out low grunts of encouragement and bent over her to bite every inch of skin he could reach. Both hands swam up her body before resting with bruising desire on her thin hips, which he pulled back into him to impale her on his length again and again.

It was so good, so hot and wet and loud and dirty. Ginny cursed and screamed and said things like "such a big dick up my pussy" that got him off like nothing else. Harry was on top of the world, lost to the ecstasy and the pulsing blood through his ears that said this was the best moment in his entire life and he never wanted it to end.

Of course, it had to, and a mere two minutes after he had penetrated her, Harry was unable to hold back the orgasm that wracked his body. He thrust hard and sharp and deep into her, bracing one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip, holding her in a vice-like grip that wouldn't allow her to move if she'd wanted to. And when he came down, he bent over and kissed the swell of a red love-bite in her shoulder blade and sighed.

Ginny groaned quietly, and Harry stroked down her sides, petting her gingerly as he began to pull out. Ginny's hand reached back and gripped his thigh, halting his progress.

"Um, not done," Ginny admitted, glancing over her shoulder.

For some reason, it took longer than necessary for Harry to process her words. When he did, he felt guilt swell in his chest.

"Oh," he exhaled. "Er, should I…?"

"Keep moving," Ginny encouraged quietly, but when Harry didn't immediately move, she thrust back against him and keened. "Or stay still and let me," she added with a soft chuckle.

Harry watched her grind back on him and then pushed past the blinding sensitivity in his dick to thrust into her again. He wouldn't just stand there and force her to do everything, but it was a little uncomfortable to go on, and he wasn't even sure he could come again afterwards.

Finally, Ginny stilled and whispered for Harry to do the same. Then, she wriggled off him and sank slowly to her knees with a winded grin. "I can't come like that. In that position, I mean," she clarified, wiping sweat from her freckled, red-blotched brow.

"Do you, um, want me to…" Harry hoped she could fill in the rest of that sentence for him.

Instead, Ginny grinned and pulled him close for a kiss. He knelt on the floor in front of her, and they kissed for what seemed an endless amount of time. When he felt her wriggling beneath him, he saw her fingers pressed between the folds of her lips and reached down to help her out.

"Tell me what to do," he whispered eagerly.

"Just here," she said, pressing two of his fingers against her entrance. "Just a little in and out—yeah, like that."

Harry did as he was told and paid special mind to Ginny's sensitive body, trailing his lips and teeth over her throat and ear, and when she bucked into his hand, he pressed both fingers in to the knuckle and groaned against her. Inside, he felt her body contract and squeeze and flood with warmth before she was limp beneath him.

~*~

In bed, Ginny curled close to Harry and grinned. "Better than your magazines?" she asked, tracing a path down his strong chest and the trail of hair that led to his now-flaccid dick.

"Much," Harry said, already half asleep when he added, "But next time, we should ask Hermione to join us."

Ginny smacked his thigh and bit his neck in angry protest, but fell asleep beside him with a cheeky grin on her lips nonetheless.


End file.
